An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

Thirteen feet of garden hose  coiled neatly in the shed  the season is nearly over  the warm spring sun  and the blazing summer heat  give way to the cool chill  of the autumn and  the bitter cold of the winter  it lies there in wait  like a hibernating snake until it is needed again

lost in the crowd  the music thunders  oh so loud  the bass thrums  the drums keep the beat  the guitars hum the fans all dance together and apart you decide to take a chance  a wild night awaits  the air electrified  we both meet by fate

Beauty is fleeting it never lasts forever  but before it fades  it graces us  with its fragile  presence  a fragrant flower that blooms once  fresh and pure  untouched by the rigors of life and ethereal  in its quality a reminder of what  happiness brings  for such a brief time

My daughter turns 18 today she has her plans her hopes and her dreams I'm there for moral support I look with wistful eyes remember the little girl trying out hats in the store posing in front of the mirror who set her plushies at the table with bits of cake and pour out tea from the pink pot who hugged the stuffed bear that still sits outside of the chocolate shop and that small girl is now a grown woman I will always be her mother but she is her own person.

Every year  we go to  the Ren Faire  time to get  some mead  in a tall mug hear the crier announce  her Majesty's arrival watch the knights  joust on their horses the crowds shout "Huzzah!" for their chosen  champions the bards wander round  playing love songs and being transported to an idealized time where chivalry is alive and honor is not dead

a flavorful drink  full of rum and spices  an interesting shade  of red  the mansion is decked with tasteful decor from the tables, the lanterns the bed the party is loud  the music sublime  a pity these guests  are all dead